


Nighthawks

by annathegr9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annathegr9/pseuds/annathegr9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is an insomniac writer, Dean is a firefighter and then there is the 24-hour diner where they meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nighthawks

**Author's Note:**

> this started off as a silly little drabble on tumblr, but it turned out to be such a fun AU to play with, I'm writing more. I'll update when I can, and in the meantime feel free to hang out with me on [tumblr](http://arosteve.tumblr.com/).
> 
> unrated for now, because I don't know what the rating for the whole fic will end up being. this chapter is suitable for general audiences. this chapter is also unbeta'd, apologies for any mistakes I may have missed.

Castiel likes the diner instantly. The lights are a crackling fluorescent, its employees range from sarcastic and surly to outright grouchy, and the coffee is just this side of bitter, but it's open 24 hours a day and it's two blocks away from his motel; so, it's perfect. He establishes himself in a corner booth, surrounding himself with various books and papers, all research for his latest novel. The waitress – an unsmiling brunette woman whose nametag reads _Ruby_ – raises an eyebrow at his veritable nest of papers the first night, but otherwise makes no comment.

On his second night, she brings him the too-bitter coffee he asked for and a plate of fries he didn't. He opens his mouth to protest, but she interrupts, "Eat something or the coffee'll rot your stomach." He doesn't know if that's true; he eats the fries anyway, appreciates the gesture.

In this way, Castiel establishes a nigh-nocturnal routine: he spends his days napping in his motel room, or on the phone with his sister-slash-literary-agent Anna; he spends his nights reading and writing at the diner, drinking cup after cup of coffee (and eating something when Ruby glares at him enough; he finds the cook – a bearded man built like a bear and named Benny – makes an excellent cheeseburger). He becomes acquainted with the diner's other employees and late-night regulars. Benny, it turns out, owns the diner, along with his wife Andrea. Ruby is the night-shift waitress, and she tells Castiel about her daytime counterpart, a woman named Lenore, a distant cousin to either Benny or Andrea, Ruby isn't sure. Among the patrons, there's Joshua, an older man, tall and quiet like a tree; fittingly, he owns the gardening and hardware store across town. A girl named Meg with a devilish smirk and dirty combat boots sits at the counter and flirts with Ruby. And then there is Dean. He comes in every other night or so, dress in his firefighter's pants and station t-shirt, and orders enough food for an army and a half. He's loud and friendly, and smiles more brightly than sunshine.

"You again?" Dean says to Castiel the third time he sees him. He's wandered over to Castiel's booth while waiting for Benny to make his order.

Castiel looks up in surprise. "What?"

"What are you working on?" Dean asks with genuine curiosity, eyeing Castiel's haphazard stacks of papers and notebooks, all covered in his own spindly handwriting.

"Um, a book," Castiel answers. "A novel, in fact."

"Huh, cool." He holds out a hand. "I'm Dean, by the way."

Castiel reaches out in response and says his own name as they shake. Dean's hand is warm and calloused.

They're interrupted by Benny's bark of, "Food's ready, jackass."

Dean chuckles at the moniker and turns around to halfheartedly give Benny the finger. He goes to grab the bags of food piled onto the counter and then leave. "See ya 'round, Cas," he calls over his shoulder.

\--

Dean doesn't come into the diner again for another few nights. In the intervening days, Castiel finally catches sight of both Andrea and Lenore, and he learns Ruby is a practicing Wiccan, about which he attempts to all but interrogate her. He also finds himself scribbling an embarrassingly flowery description of someone with sharp, green eyes and warm hands in the margins of his notes; he scowls and draws a line through the words.

It's a Wednesday night, and Castiel is lost in a book detailing the basics of astrophysics, when Dean comes in. Castiel hears Dean's voice ordering food from Benny with the usual banter and gusto, and glances up from the section on the gravity of collapsing stars and black holes.

"Heya, Cas," Dean greets as he walks over. He's smiling.

Castiel's own lips curve up in response. "Hello, Dean."

"How's the novel going?" He grabs a fry off of Castiel's plate, familiar as you please, and bites it in half. Castiel narrows his eyes, but Dean just grins, wide and smug, once he's done chewing. "How's the novel, man?" he repeats.

"Just fine," Castiel says, still staring down the other half of fry in Dean's hand, before Dean eats it. "It's about a man who steals others' food and his eventual comeuppance," Castiel continues wryly. Dean laughs, loud and bright and beautiful, and Castiel doesn't think he ever wants to hear another sound for the rest of his life.

"Well, I bet he's a handsome son-of-a-bitch, at least," Dean says before grabbing the food Benny has left on the counter and leaving. "Thanks for the fry."

Ruby stares at Castiel, eyebrows fully raised, as she pours him another cup of coffee.

\--

"Your publisher wants it sooner, rather than later, Cas," is the first thing Anna says the next time Castiel calls her.

Castiel huffs out a sigh. "Tell my publisher not to rush genius," he grumbles and it's mostly sarcastic.

Anna laughs. "Y'know, Chuck told me the exact same thing, just the other day."

"Don't compare me to that hack," Castiel groans. He rubs a hand over his face, feels the stubble growing there. He thinks of shaving soon. Maybe.

"Don't call my other clients hacks! He's got a very enthusiastic fan following, I'll have you know." Anna pauses, before continuing more gently. "Can you at least send me drafts of a few chapters soon?"

"Fine," he agrees halfheartedly.

Anna ends the conversation soon after that, citing a dentist appointment. "Love you," she adds quickly as they hang up.

 _A few chapters._ Castiel considers, as he unbuttons his shirt, preparing for a shower. He has some scraps and pieces already; he could work on stringing them together in the next few nights or so. He goes to the bathroom and turns the knobs in the shower, until steaming hot water is gushing out. He concedes to himself that it may take much longer than a few nights as he removes his remaining clothes. Entering the stream, he releases a sigh, lets the flowing waters clear his mind. And just for a moment, he thinks instead of warm hands and a brilliant smile.

\--

That night is gloomy and humid, fog creeping around corners stealthily, like a feral cat. Castiel takes up residence in his usual corner booth and nods when Ruby looks over and asks, "Your usual, Agatha Christie?"

"I don't write mysteries," he tells her when she sets a mug of coffee in front of him. The steam curls gently towards his face, the familiar scent of it warming him somewhere in his chest.

Ruby shrugs. "That's too bad; I like mysteries. Any food tonight?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Just coffee for now, thanks." He starts pulling out his notes when she leaves him alone, to give Joshua his check and to chat with Benny through the window separating the kitchen from the rest of the diner.

The reading he's chosen – an essay on the neuroscience involved with the formation of memories – proves to be incredibly engrossing, so much so that he doesn't notice when another person settles themselves in his booth.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hmm?" Castiel hums absentmindedly, continuing to read.

" _Cas_ ," the voice says more forcefully, while also sounding like whoever it is, is trying not laugh. A hand appears in Castiel's line of vision, waving back and forth, startling Castiel into finally looking up. He's greeted by Dean, who is all smiles and sparkling eyes. "Earth to Castiel," Dean teases.

"Oh, Dean. Sorry, this essay, it's very fascinating." Castiel pauses. Dean's sitting at his table. But… why? Did he miss something? "Can I help you…?"

Dean chuckles again. "Nah. It's just a slow night at the station, thought I'd join you for a cup of coffee."

"Oh."

Dean's smile fades slowly, like a cloud disappearing on a clear and windy day. "Is that okay? I know you're busy writing, I mean, I—"

"Dean, it's fine," Castiel interrupts, and just like that, Dean is smiling again.

"So, you're new in town, aren't you?"

Castiel nods. "I'm really just here to work on my book."

"Why here? I mean, we're kind of the middle of nowhere."

Castiel shrugs, unsure if he wants to admit that he'd arbitrarily pointed at a map after Anna had suggested that getting away for some time could help with writer's block.

Dean, sensing Castiel's apprehension, waves it off. "Alright, bad question. Tell me more about your book."

Conversation with Dean turns out to be much easier than Castiel could have ever guessed. They talk about Castiel's writing briefly, and Dean proves to be intelligent and insightful. Castiel, ever curious, asks Dean some questions about his work as a firefighter. They begin to trade life stories, starting with family, and Castiel learns that a lot of Dean's family lives in town, including a younger brother and a boatload of cousins. He's just starting to tell Dean how many sisters he himself has when there comes a harsh, almost piercing noise, and Dean jumps slightly; it's his radio. A man's voice comes through, crackling slightly. "Winchester, we've got electrical fires over in the warehouses off Main. Get back to the station. Over."

"Roger that," Dean replies into the radio, his tone serious and professional, but when he looks back up at Castiel, he looks almost shy. "Sorry, Cas," he says, biting his lip, "I gotta go. But um." Castiel raises his eyebrow in question. Dean suddenly reaches across the table and grabs a napkin and one of Castiel's pens. He scribbles something, then stands up and runs out of the door. Castiel stares after him for a few seconds, not quite sure what just happened. He pulls the napkin towards himself, scrutinizes it.

Dean had written a phone number. Something inside Castiel bubbles and blossoms, and he finds it difficult to suppress a smile.


End file.
